


Means to an End

by Dark_Frejya



Category: Enola Holmes (2020)
Genre: Caning, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Maledom/Femsub, Manhandling, Punishment, Smut, Spanking, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:53:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27703724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Frejya/pseuds/Dark_Frejya
Summary: After your lewd behaviour during a carriage ride, Sherlock keeps his promise of punishing you with his cane.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & Reader
Kudos: 35





	Means to an End

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Enola Holmes or Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock sure kept his promise tonight. 

Your dainty feet barely made it across the doorstep, and you were suddenly hauled up in the air and thrown over his broad shoulder. A pitiful wail went astray amidst his leaden stride as he carried you toward the bedroom. His fist taut around the base of his elegant cane. 

Thought Sherlock had the physics of a wrestler, it never ceased to surprise you how infinitely strong he was. If he wanted you in any which way, he’d have you, and there was no arguing about it.

Yet the thrill of the risk in protest gave your sexual relationship a particular razor-sharp edge, further heightening your ecstasies.

“Sir!” You hissed, nails scratching at his vest as you watched the corridor lengthen and the means to escape falter, “I just wanted to please you!”

“Misbehaving aren’t we, little one?” He spoke and rested his large hand over your buttocks, squeezing one cheek forcefully and then giving you a smack. Not so much to hurt but to remind you what you were.

“I guaranteed you’ll get the cane tonight, and as you know I’m a man of my word, pet”.

The promise on his tongue made your skin prickle with goosebumps, and the heart of yours clenched as he stomped through the room and shoved you belly-down on his knees. In a ridiculous act of defiance, you tried to scurry, hands reaching to grip at the mattress as you tried to crawl away. But Sherlock simply pressed an elbow at the small of your back while he used the curved, hook-shaped hilt of his cane to throw your skirts over your head. 

A chill snaked all the way down to your tailbone as your ears registered the sound of fabric being torn aggressively and the brush of cold air graced your exposed ass.

Sherlock took a deep breath, eyeing your enticing rump. Using the golden hilt, he caressed the tender flesh ever so affectionately. The cold, embellished metal glided between the cleft, making you hold your breath and clench as you felt it press at your most sacred spot.

Noticing your fright, he broke into a low chuckle and then pulled it away which only made your heartbeat halt for a fraction of a second.

You knew what was to come.

“Count them,” he commanded.

“Sher…”

Smack! 

The squeal that broke from your lips echoed through the entire house. Tears followed in an instant, and the sting still vibrated across your flesh.

“What did I tell you?” He chided, and you shook your head and gasped for air.

“On.. one!" 

The rigid material slammed against your flesh, and whatever came out of your mouth was cracked and quivering. The shock never subsided before you were granted with another dutiful, hard smack.

"Two!!" 

Your muscles were needles and pins, pain raw and powerful spread between your thighs and climbed all the way up to your nape. You hoped for it to be dulled by your mind’s natural defence, but as he laid the third smack, you scream only hitched higher.

"Three!!!”

Sherlock huffed and glared down at you with admiration. His little minx, unbroken, yet always at his command. He lowered the cane gently on your skin and circled the flaming spot where he spanked you. As the twinge imprinted through your body, a familiar tingle awoke just in time, the same as always. And being the sinful woman you were, you succumbed to it and even welcomed it, arching your back in a silent plea for more.

“My good girl,” he praised, feeling wetness on his thigh, as you left a sticky stain across the fabric of his trousers, “keep this up, and I might fuck you tonight." 

You let out a deep moan and nodded with obedience, "Yes, master!" 

"My sweet little succubus,” he murmured, voice soft and affectionate as he lifted the cane once again. “Going to fuck that tight little pussy until you’re sore,” he promised and laid two smacks one after the other.

“Four! **Five!!!** " 

"Unload my desire inside you, take you from behind…” he growled, enjoying the way you writhed onto his lap. Hands clutching at his knee, your thighs spread with need as you listened to his lewd “poetry”.

“My hips bucking into your aching ass, my sack slapping against your juicy petals.”

It was odd how your body confused pain with pleasure. As the sixth smack landed on your cheek, you moaned the number like a whore and stuck your ass up begging for more. Your swollen, soaking lips burnt with sin, desperate to feel your master’s cock filling every inch.

Seven, eight, nine and ten passed smoothly, melting into a wave of aphrodisia. Both Sherlock and you gasped for air, and as the loud noise of the cane falling on the floor made you bounce, but he quickly calmed you down by running his fingers down your hair. 

“You took your punishment so well, pet” he praised you and leaned down to kiss the back of your head.

“Now are you ready for your prize?”


End file.
